


Well that was Unexpected

by stagepageandscreen



Category: Les Misérables - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, F/M, Friendship, Gen, Humor, Romance
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-08-12
Updated: 2014-01-27
Packaged: 2017-12-23 06:39:41
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 11,294
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/923171
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/stagepageandscreen/pseuds/stagepageandscreen
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A series of one shots about the Amis. Told from Eponine's perspective, we follow her as she meets and gets to know the group, finding out some unexpected things along the way. Some funny, some sad, some romantic. Modern day AU. Rated for language.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Marius

**Author's Note:**

> A/N This has probably been done before, but I wanted to put my spin on it. Basically I'm going to do a oneshot for each of the Amis, each detailing something unexpected about their character. Just for the record, in this fiction Marius is already with Cosette so we don't have the whole unrequited love saga. And, yes, this is an eventual Enjonine story. Don't like it, don't read it, but you cannot sink my ship!
> 
> Enjoy!

**Marius**

Eponine's day had beennbad from the very start. She had woken up late that morning, exhausted from studying late the night before, therefore missing the bus that would get her to her morning job at a greasy spoon café situated just off the university campus.

She had barrelled in ten minutes late, gasping for breath, hoping she would be able to grovel with an apology and possibly gain some sympathy. No such luck.

It was quickly shaping up to just not be her day when she was cornered by the manageress (who was a _complete_ bitch) who made her work ten minutes over her usual shift time to make up for her lateness. This meant that she was late for her first lecture, a fact not appreciated by Professor Valjean who seemed to be a bad enough mood that morning to give her a public dressing down in front of the whole class.

Her streak of bad luck ran over into her lunch break when she discovered that she had forgotten her money. No lunch for her today.

With a heavy sigh (and an empty stomach) she had headed out of the cafeteria, only to have a cup of hot coffee splashed on to her by some jerk that hadn't been looking where he was going. He barely even glanced up from the dog-eared text book he was reading and offered no sort of apology, leaving her fuming with barely suppressed rage. She considered going after him and letting out some frustration by metaphorically ripping the guy a new one but was distracted by the thought that if she didn't wash her shirt out, the coffee would stain it and she would be damned before she lost this shirt, it was one of her favourites.

She had then had to spent a good ten minutes in the girl's toilets desperately trying to wash the huge coffee stain out of her shirt and soothe the rather painful burn on her stomach. Thankfully, she had been carrying her jacket (the only really nice piece of clothing she had left) so she was able to put it on over the shirt and hide the mark.

By the time she had scrubbed the worst of the stain out of her shirt she had then missed her second bus to her afternoon shift at the café. This meant that she had to walk and it was at that point it had started raining.

Normally, she loved the rain, loved the cool feel of it on her skin and the way it changed dull black pavements into glistening silver , however, it was just another negative addition to her day.

So here she was, trudging along in the pouring rain, the hood of her fleece jacket (uselessly) pulled up against the elements, hungry, tired, and drenched to the skin. Such was her state of misery that she didn't notice the car that had pulled up alongside her until the driver called out to her.

"Need a lift?" The voice sounded friendly, if a bit nervous.

She stopped in surprise, and a little bit of fear, not she could be blamed really after some of the people she had grown up around. She shuddered as thoughts of her ex, Montparnasse, flitted through her brain. He now, thankfully, was behind bars for a good long time.

Shaking herself from her dark thoughts, she turned to peer suspiciously at the driver of the car. He looked young, fresh faced with an air of innocence, with hair the colour of cinnamon and heavy dusting of freckles across his nose. His hazel eyes were alight with concern, but a friendly smile hovered around his mouth. It took her a moment to realize she recognized him.

"Marius, right? From Professor Valjean's Economics class?"

He nodded, relief melting across his features. "I hoped you would recognize me, or else you might take me for a crazy stalker or something! It's just, I saw you walking along in the rain and I was driving to meet my friends and you looked pretty miserable so I thought…"

For the first time all day, Eponine felt herself smile at his anxious rambling. "You're the best thing that has happened to me all day." She opened the door and gingerly hopped in, cringing as she saw the expensive leather upholstery. "I'm afraid I'll get your seat wet."

He smiled again, insisting it was no bother, and Eponine decided she really rather liked him. Why had she never noticed him before?

The silence in the car was slightly awkward, broken only by Marius' random and slightly nervous bursts of speech that made Eponine want to laugh and give him a hug at the same time. He was obviously painfully shy around women, yet he had offered help and asked for nothing in return.

He stopped in front of a café that was much nicer than the one she worked at and she sat in the car a moment, trying to gain her bearings when Marius spoke again.

"I suggest you come inside for a drink and to dry off before I drop you to wear you work, you look frozen." He flushed suddenly, something Eponine was discovering he did regularly. "It's not a…a date or anything…I wouldn't want to go out with you… I mean, there's nothing wrong with you, you're very pretty, but…um, I have a girlfriend… and, sorry, I'm really bad at this… and…"

Eponine grinned. "Marius, stop talking and breathe." He did as she asked, still an endearing shade of pink. "Now, you seem like a pretty cool guy to be friends with and I'd like to see more of you, but let's just establish some things first. I am not hitting on you, and you are not hitting on me. You are in a relationship, and I'm a walking disaster." She held up a hand to stop whatever stupidly chivalrous statement had been about to come out of his mouth. "Don't say anything, it's a fact. Thank you for saying you think I'm pretty though, I can't remember the last time someone said that to me." She shoved her slightly soggy beret back onto her head and smiled. "I have half an hour until my shift starts. Drink?"

He held the door open for her, inviting her into the warmth of the café with a shy smiled she returned. She really needed to have this guy around every time she had a bad day; everything about him just relaxed her and made her feel better.

She was unfamiliar with the café, but Marius seemed to know where he was going, striding over to a group of young men that looked about her age and were obviously from the university.

She stood still for a moment, revelling in the warmth and the friendly atmosphere of the café, studying the faces of Marius' companions. They were all obviously very good friends from the way they were interacting with each other and she suddenly felt a strange longing pull deep in her gut to be a part of a group like that. Suddenly, she realized that she recognized one of them. Her good mood rapidly disappeared and she stormed across the café, a furious glare stamped onto her features.

He was sat slightly apart from the main group, head bent over his work, paying no attention to the conversation going on a few feet to his left. He did not look up when she came to an angry halt in front of him and made no indication he was aware of her presence, even when she cleared her throat loudly. His rudeness was the straw that broke the camel's back, only in this case it was Eponine's temper that snapped.

"I think you owe me an apology!" she hissed, not noticing the stunned looks she was receiving from Marius and the other boys from the other end of the table.

Icy blue eyes rose from the table top to meet her blazing brown ones. "I beg your pardon?" He raised a neat golden eyebrow, his face and tone the epitome of irritated politeness.

"The university cafeteria, lunch time today. I was on my way out, you were on your way in and had your nose buried in a book. You weren't looking where you were going and barged straight into me, emptying your cup of coffee over me in the process!"

His brow furrowed as he responded. "I believe it was you who was not paying attention to where you were going. Thanks to you, a perfectly decent cup of coffee went to waste." His eyes fell back onto his notes, indicating he considered the conversation over.

"You arrogant, self-centred git _!"_

His head snapped up again upon hearing her words.

"You _burned_ me with your drink and then sauntered off without even _considering giving me an apology,_ because you couldn't _possibly_ be in the wrong! Look what you did! Look!" she hauled her damp and still stained shirt up over her midriff, feeling vaguely triumphant when he winced at the sight of the bright red scald mark across the tanned skin of her stomach. She outright smirked when he then flushed with embarrassment and averted his eyes away from the portion of exposed skin.

"On top of that, you ruined my shirt, one of the few nice ones I own. Not all of us have money to burn on designer button ups." She curled her lip in distaste at the obvious expense of the dark red shirt he was wearing, the sleeves rolled up to his elbows and the top two buttons unfastened.

"So," she dropped her shirt back down and changed the tone of her voice so that it became syrupy sweet, "if it's not _too_ much trouble, and if you can pull your head out of your own arse for long enough," she smirked at the colour that rose in his cheeks before raising her voice and injecting as much venom as she could, " _I would like an apology_!"

He looked around the room, shifting slightly when he noticed all eyes were on him and a lot of people were shaking their heads disapprovingly. However, Eponine noticed that among his group of friends, several of them were desperately trying to not to laugh. Whether at her or their friend she wasn't quite sure.

"Enjolras," the voice was grave and belonged to a scholarly looking young man with fair hair and a set of glasses perched half way on his nose. "Your behaviour was less than gentlemanly and it really is only polite to apologize to _Mademoiselle…?_ " He turned his gentle rebuke into a question and Eponine realized she hadn't been introduced by Marius before she had flown off the handle at the blond jerk… Enjolras. Well, she knew his name now. It would make tracking him down easier if the need ever arose, or if she needed to kill him.

"Eponine." Her tone was curt and she glared pointedly at Enjolras, who promptly glared right back before uncomfortably clearing his throat.

"I apologize _Mademoiselle_ Eponine for my behaviour earlier today. It was insensitive and impolite of me and I sincerely regret it." He ground each word out as if it physically pained him. He glanced at the student with the glasses as if to say 'happy now?'. Apparently not as Enjolras turned back and Eponine briefly wondered what freaky telepathic shit these two had going on. "If it will make it up to you I will provide money for a new shirt for you."

She glared again at that, unhappy with the thought of charity, but then again… what the hell, she couldn't afford to be proud at the moment. Even if she didn't get any new clothes she could put it towards the rent.

"I accept you offer and your apology." She kept her tone as formal as his, but the effect of her statement was ruined by the fact that she then promptly sneezed. Damn, she forgot how easily she caught a chill.

A skinny young man with dark hair jumped to his feet and began fussing around her, insisting that she removed her wet coat before she caught her death. In no time, she was surrounded by laughing, joking, friendly young men who seemed partly worried about the health of Marius' new little friend, and partly impressed that she had taken on Enjolras so impressively.

As for Enjolras, well, he stayed ensconced in the corner with his books and laptop, occasionally looking up to glare at the newcomer who had embarrassed him so thoroughly and cursed himself for being so effected by the fire that had blazed in her eyes.

Eponine knew he was glaring at her, but she really didn't care. ' _Well, rather unexpectedly today hasn't ended as such a bad day after all.'_ She thought


	2. Combeferre

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N Okay, second instalment of WTWU. Combeferre up next and things get a little…odd. Sorry if people seem a bit out of character, but that is sort of the point of this fiction.
> 
> Just want to say thanks to my little sister, Rachel, for her help with this chapter. It is thanks to her craziness that the content of chapter works. Love ya sis!
> 
> Enjoy!

Although Eponine had only known the Amis (this was what Marius’ group of friends called themselves) for a few weeks, she felt like she had been a part of their group for much longer. She enjoyed their company immensely, finding all of the boys to be funny, engaging, and, on the whole, friendly.By ‘on the whole’, she meant everyone but _Enjol-stick-up-his-ass_ , who still basically ignored her, only speaking to her when absolutely necessary.

Combeferre, the student with glasses who had guilt tripped Enjolras into apologizing to her, was the complete opposite. He always greeted her with a smile and a kind inquiry as to how her day had been. He read her moods frighteningly well, knowing exactly when to talk to her and exactly when to just buy her a coffee and sit beside her in silence to read. Along with Jean Prouvaire, or Jehan as he preferred, a gentle mannered poet who was the dictionary definition of adorable most days, and Marius (who was still as awkward as ever, bless him), Combeferre was probably the Amis she got on best with.

He did, however, have one major flaw. He was far too tolerant and accepting of the antics of his friends, even when he was the butt of the joke or the victim of the prank. Whenever the other boys were messing about (usually led by Courfeyrac, an incorrigible rouge with a penchant for flirting with anything that breathed) Combeferre would smile before turning back to whatever he was working on with Enjolras.

Eponine knew something had to be done when the day came that Courfeyrac stole Combeferre’s glasses and drew a bad representation of Tweety Pie from the Loony Tunes cartoon onto the lenses. Combeferre’s only reaction was to shake his head slightly in annoyance and wipe the felt tip off with a small cloth.

He had just settled himself down with a rather dog eared copy of _Beyond Good and Evil_   by Friedrich Nietzsche when Eponine pounced, collapsing with very little grace into the chair opposite him.

“So, how are you going to pay Courf back?”

He glanced up at her, bemused, but also genuinely confused. “I’m not?” He said it as a question, correctly assuming that she was not going to take no as an answer.

“Of course you are.” She responded, checking to see that none of the Amis were listening. Grantaire had challenged Courfeyrac to beer pong (and was winning) and everyone was watching the game apart from Enjolras. He, as usual, had moved away from the table when she had approached. “In fact,” she continued, “not only are you going to prank Courfeyrac, you are also going to prank everyone else. And yes, that includes Enjolras.”

He looked unsure, but unsure was better than an outright refusal. Eventually, he spoke. “I don’t really know _how_ to prank someone if I’m honest.” He gave a wry grin. “I was more of a stay at home bookworm as a child as opposed to tearing around the neighbourhood raising hell kind of child.”

Eponine tried not to squeal with delight at his agreement. She was finally going to get the chance to get one up on the Marble Apollo of No Manners. Instead of vocalizing this thought, she simply nodded in a solemn manner. “I know just the person to talk to.”

 

* * *

 

“Please tell me you are not serious about this?” Combeferre groaned, eyeing up the person sitting opposite him. They were sat in his apartment, beginning on their plans of war

“He’s the best there is, trust me. I trained him myself.” Eponine said reassuringly, pushing a cup of Combeferre’s favourite peppermint tea towards him across the kitchen table.

“He looks about nine!”

“I’m twelve and a half, thank you very much.” Eponine’s little brother, Gavroche, grumbled from over the rim of his mug of hot chocolate.

“Just let him work, ‘Ferre.” She handed a pile of paper to Gavroche. Each sheet was a profile on each of the Amis: name, age, likes, dislikes, personality, medical (just to be safe), and, most importantly, their addresses.

After looking over the profiles for a few minutes, Gavroche pushed his mug away and assumed a serious expression. “I think I have an idea…”

An hour later, Gavroche set down his pen and gave a slightly feral grin. “These are the best I’ve come up with, not to pat myself on the back or anything.”

Combeferre was eyeing up the plans with not a small amount of trepidation. “Some of these look rather difficult…” he began, but the little boy fixed him with a steely glare.

“Eponine will help you. But I swear if you mess these up or bottle out, I will be very disappointed in you. I have worked hard on these and I don’t want all that work to go to waste. Now be a man and show this group of unimaginative wanna be pranksters how a master works.” He then hopped off the chair, tugged on Eponine’s hair in way of farewell and scampered off out of the door.

As the latch clicked shut, Combeferre turned a slightly frightened gaze on Eponine who simply shrugged and smiled. “You heard the kid. Let’s show them what we can do.”

 

* * *

 

After a week of planning, buying, preparing, and convincing Combeferre to actually go through with whole operation (dubbed Operation The Pup Has Grown Up from the very start) it was finally time to put their plans into action.

It was a normal Thursday evening and the Amis were all crammed into the back room of the Musain, having long abandoned Enjolras’ meeting agenda. The clock chimed nine and Eponine gave Combeferre a pointed look from across the room. She stood up, a move closely followed by him. Innocently, she gathered her things together; making sure no one saw her take Bahorel’s leather biker jacket from its place on his chair. She could basically see the nerves radiating off Combeferre as he made his excuses to Enjolras and hoped the blond was so absorbed in his work that he wouldn’t pay much attention to his friend’s less than stellar acting (okay, lying) abilities.

“Aww, going so soon ‘Ponine?” Slurred Courfeyrac from where he was draped over the back of a chair, looking so cat like it was actually disconcerting. Actually, he was also draped over Jehan, but as the poet was rather busy drawing a very nice flower design onto the charmer’s right bicep, Eponine wasn’t going to do anything.

She shrugged nonchalantly, her poker face absolutely flawless. “Combeferre offered to give me a ride home.”

“Philip and Eponine sitting in a tree! K-I-S-S-I-N-G!” Grantaire was remarkably eloquent when drunk. Well, he could at least spell.

“Nonsense, _Nicolas_.” Combeferre stood beside, a slight frown in place. “I am simply offering her a ride home as it is unsafe for her to walk home alone in the dark.”

Grantaire, after grimacing at the use of his first name, simply smirked and gave them a knowing look.

They made it outside with no further hassle and drove quickly to make their rounds of all the places the Amis lived. The only comment made on the journey was by Eponine.

“You’re name is _Philip_?”

“Please don’t mention it again. Ever.”

 

* * *

 

“I can’t believe we got away with it!” Combeferre exclaimed as Eponine fiddled with the lock of Courfeyrac’s door. He then frowned. "Is it a good idea to ask why you know how to do that?"

“No, and we haven’t got away with it yet.” She reminded him as the door swung open. She slid her hair grip back into her hair. “Let’s get to work.”

An hour and a half later he dropped her back at home, the two of them exchanging grins that would have put the Cheshire Cat to shame.

 

* * *

 

Eponine’s phone rang at half past six the next morning, a fact she normally wouldn’t have appreciated. However, Combeferre had promised the previous night to call her as soon as the effects of Gavroche’s pranks were known so she rolled over and refrained from swearing down the phone at him.

“Hello?” Was that screaming she could hear in the background?

“Joly is convinced he’s dying. Why didn’t you tell me the dye was that _blue_?”

“You never asked.” They had spiked Joly moisturising cream with a dye that was invisible until applied to skin. It had taken some time to find it on the Internet, but, judging by the screaming, it had been worth every penny.

“Yeah, well Bossuet is trying to convince him not to call us all for a will reading. We were doing quite well actually; it’s been over a month since the last one. Weird thing is who gets what changes every time…”

“I somehow don’t think you will be included in the list of beneficiaries when Joly finds out you were behind it.” Eponine drawled and practically felt Combeferre tense up.

“You know maybe we should just call it all off…”

“Okay, stop right there. We are _not_ letting all of this time and effort go to waste because you can’t follow through.” Just then, her phone beeped, indicating that Courfeyrac was trying to get through to her. “I’ve got to go. I think Couf just found his ‘present’.” She hung up and accessed the other call, making her voice sound like she had just woken up. “What the hell, Courf. It’s, like, half six in the morning.” 

“Eponine,” His voice was grave and Eponine had a sudden moment of panic that he figured out that she and ‘Ferre had set the prank. His next words set her mind to rest. “I need to know if you are a natural brunette or if you dye it.”

“No, Courf, it’s all natural.” She spoke slowly, sounding confused, but inside she was howling with laughter.

“Okay. Talk to you later.”

She sat and stared at her phone for a second after he had hung up, expecting a little more of a reaction. Then, she hugged her arms to herself and let out a peal of evil laughter that would have made anyone listening shiver in fear. She couldn’t wait to see Enjolras!

 

* * *

 

The scene that Eponine walked in on in the Musain later that afternoon was almost beyond describing. Joly was sat next to Bossuet, his face a startling shade of blue tinged with patches of red from where he had tried to scrub his face clean. Next to him sat Courfeyrac with a dark grey beany pulled down low on his head. Grantaire was sat in his usual corner, his face confused and muttering something unintelligible. Jehan was sat between them, a plastic tub of brownies balanced on his knee, a concerned look on his face. In the middle of this sat Combeferre, looking terribly guilty but also slightly pleased. She sat down among them, her best innocent expression in place.

“Dare I ask the question?” she queried, looking from one face to another.

“I’m not long left for this world!” moaned Joly.

Darting her hand forwards, Eponine pulled the beany off Courfeyrac head. He let out an extremely feminine shriek and clapped his arms over his head, but not before she had seen the extent of their handy work and she couldn’t stifle the giggle that forced its way out of her throat.

Courfeyrac’s normally dark brown curls were now a very strange ginger colour with streaks of blond and dark brown twisting through it. That may sound nice, but the overall effect really wasn’t. The prank had been easy really. They had simply added a nontoxic hair dye to his shampoo so that when he washed his hair it would be dyed at the same time.

“Well, that explains your phone call this morning.” She deadpanned.

“Don’t look at me!” He wailed, pulling the hat out of her hands and hiding his hair under it. “Whoever did this is going to pay! IN BLOOD!”

“Steady on, mate.” Combeferre tried to sound soothing, but Eponine picked up on the undercurrent of laughter. “It’s just your hair.”

“JUST MY HAIR!” Courfeyrac shrieked. “MY HAIR WAS MY CROWNING GLORY! ONE OF MY FINEST ASSETS! IT WAS…”

“Oh, _shut up_ Courfeyrac!” Grantaire groaned. “At least you didn’t hand in a photography assignment that somehow managed to include a baby photo of you!”

Eponine grinned. That prank had been slightly harder as they had had to get hold of a picture of a baby Grantaire (he had been a _very_ cute baby) and then get the photo into his assignment folder. Apparently it had worked though.

Just then, Feuilly walked through the door, a slightly distressed look on his face. “Did Bahorel draw a dick on my face again? Because I have been getting some really strange looks today.”

Jehan squeaked as he caught sight of Feuilly’s eyes and offered him Joly’s hand mirror. Feuilly studied himself for a moment then swore and nearly dropped the mirror. Eponine sniggered silently. Replacing Feuilly’s contact lenses had been the most difficult task of all. Combeferre had had to convince Feuilly to give him his prescription and then they had had to pay for a pair of lenses that would correct not only his vision, but also turn his iris a startling blood red. The effect was rather startling and Eponine was only amazed that it had taken this long for him to find a mirror.

Bahorel was in next, his expression murderous. “Do not speak to me, any of you; because I know it was someone in this group who did this and, unless they own up I will quite probably just punch anyone.”

Eponine avoided eye contact as she was quite sure the fighter meant every word of his little rant. She had drawn little smiley faces in felt tip pen all over the body work of Bahorel’s motorbike, his pride and joy. If that wasn’t enough, they had also used Jehan’s bedazzling tool on Bahorel’s biker jacket. Surprisingly, he was still wearing the jacket despite the rainbow of crystals attached across the shoulders in a wing design.

When Marius and Cosette arrived, Eponine could see that the prank her and Combeferre had planned had been successful. Marius was tinged a delightful shade of pink while Cosette looked slightly smug.

Courfeyrac perked up a bit upon seeing somebody in even more discomfort than himself. “Alright Pontmercy, spill. Why are you suddenly trying to perfect your impression of Enjolras in a temper?”

Marius stuttered for about a full minute before his girlfriend took pity and told the story for him. “Some random girl came up to Marius at the university today and started flirting with him.”

The ‘random girl’ was in fact a friend of Combeferre’s. He had mentioned that he had a female friend, a drama student, who would be more than happy to help. He said that she also had a wicked sense of humour and would find the whole situation hilarious. It seemed the plan had worked but Eponine had one question.

“Sorry, there’s one thing I do not understand here.” She addressed the blond girl. “Some girl was flirting with your boyfriend but you seem pretty happy.”

Cosette, after looking a little surprised at being addressed, gave a brilliant smile. “Oh, I knew the girl; she’s in my drama class. When she realised Marius and I were together she was really apologetic and said someone had dared her to do it.” Eponine couldn’t miss the pointed look that was sent her way and knew that the blond girl had figured out who was behind all this. Cosette went up several points in Eponine’s estimation of her, not only because she figured it out, but because she didn’t say anything.

“And now for the final act…” Combeferre whispered in her ear, jerking his head towards the door to draw her attention. Eponine turned and she felt a flare of sadistic humour at the sight that met her. Enjolras looked distinctly uncomfortable, and she couldn’t really blame him. Despite the weather outside being warm and the café even warmer, he was wearing a heavy red jacket, buttoned all the way up to his chin and Eponine knew why. The prank for Enjolras had taken a lot of work and even more planning. She had spent a ridiculous amount of time convincing Combeferre that pulling the joke on his best friend was acceptable. In the end, she had simply told him to leave it to her so he wouldn’t feel guilty. Firstly, she had replaced all of Enjolras’ shirts (which consisted of black, white, blue, grey and red) with pink copies. Childish, maybe, but oh so rewarding. She had then removed all of his trousers and all of his shoes bar his red Converse high tops which had been painstakingly covered in sequins.

“Oh, Enjolras, I _love_ your shoes!” Cosette exclaimed, echoed by Jehan.

The look Enjolras gave them was weary rather than furious and Eponine felt a twinge of pity. She instantly slapped it down, reminding herself that this was payback for the weeks of rudeness she had endured from him.

“Those trousers look a little tight,” Combeferre mused, then looked again closer. “Are those mine?”

“Mine somehow all disappeared, along with my shoes.” Enjolras collapsed into a chair and self-consciously removed his coat, revealing a very fetching pink shirt.

“It takes a very secure man to wear pink.” Eponine deadpanned, ignoring the glare he shot her.

To their credit, no one laughed. After the events of the day, everyone was confused rather than amused. Jehan, bless his heart, decided to try and cheer everyone up.

“I brought brownies.” He offered the box round to everyone, his sunshine smile and delicious baking bringing a smile back to everyone’s face. Eponine couldn’t help but notice the way Enjolras’ eyes lit up at the offer of brownies. He obviously had a sweet tooth, a fact she stored away for later. When the box came to her she declined, saying she was on a diet and Combeferre begged off by saying he had just had a late lunch and was full. This was one batch of Jehan’s famous brownies they would gladly miss.

Bahorel took a huge bite and promptly spat it back out again. “Holy…what did you do to these, Jehan?”

Jehan looked confused and took a bite of brownie. His face registered shock and then disgust, rapidly followed by him dashing off to the bathroom.

Ruined brownies appeared to be the last straw. “Every single one of us has been pranked today.” Enjolras was fuming. “Alright, who was it?”

Everyone automatically looked at Courfeyrac, the regular joker of the group, but he wordlessly pointed to his ruined hair in protest. Jehan arrived back just then just as accusations were beginning to fly. Eponine shared a look with Combeferre who grinned. Time for the big reveal. The two of them stood up and took a bow, effectively silencing the room.

“It was you two?” Feuilly asked his red eyes wide in surprise.

Combeferre shrugged. “I was tired of always being the target so for once I was the one pulling the pranks.” He grinned at Eponine, looking suddenly like a naughty little boy again. “With the substantial help of Miss Thenardier and her younger brother. In fact, essentially, you were all pranked by a twelve year old!”

Courfeyrac began slow clapping in appreciation. “I’ll murder you in your sleep about my hair later. For now, I will simply bask in the sheer badassery of our ‘Ferre! Oh, and ‘Ponine? I seriously have to meet your brother!”

“So _that’s_ what you two were doing last night! I thought you were on a secret date!” exclaimed Jehan, who then pouted. “You ruined a whole batch of my brownies!”

“Whatever you used on my bike had better not be permanent.” Bahorel growled to which the two of them shook their heads quickly no.

Everyone started shouting then and it took a good half an hour of Combeferre reassuring everyone that all of their removed items would be replaced (Enjolras was rather worried about his clothes) and that no, Joly, the dye was not permanent and would wash out in a day or two.

“I have to thank you two for not doing anything to me!” chuckled Bossuet, “I have bad enough luck as it is!”

Combeferre grinned. “It seemed a bit mean to leave you with a panicking Joly _and_ give you your own prank.”

“Alright,” Enjolras broke in, his voice disapproving. “now that we have finished acting like children and, quite frankly I expected better of you Combeferre, can we please get down to business?”

Eponine had to admit the meeting that night was interesting, what with Joly’s blue face, Feuilly’s red eye (which he said he was _definitely_ keeping), Courfeyrac’s hair, and Enjolras’ colourful ensemble.

She settled herself in the corner with Grantaire, who gave her a bottle and a salute. She returned the salute with a smile and settled herself down to watch her friends. Just for a moment, she caught Enjolras’ gaze and, to her surprise, he gave a flicker of a smile.

She blinked in amazement. The marble man had a sense of humour and moreover had been amused by the whole incident.

Well that was unexpected.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N Hehehehe! That was fun to write! Please leave a comment, it would mean the world to me.


	3. Courfeyrac

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Much to his horror Courfeyrac has girl problems. Eponine helps, the Amis bicker, and Grantaire takes a rather important photograph.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi again to you lovely readers! Here is the third instalment of ‘Well that was Unexpected’. In this chapter we have fluff, fun and Courfeyrac, the best mixture ever in my opinion.
> 
> Hi! Its SPAS’ little sis Rachel again. Once again I just wish to point out that I was the mastermind behind this story. You may worship me later: after reading and reviewing. You will review Enjoy!
> 
> Okay, Rach, you’re bordering on insane there! *laughs nervously while backing away* We wrote this together and you know it. 
> 
> Details, details. Anyway, I don’t suffer from insanity; I enjoy every minute of it. Yummy, ankles…
> 
> Bad Rachel, bad! Leave my ankles alone! Enjoy the story, people!
> 
> Yummy! Give me ankles so I may feed upon them Mooohahahahahaha.

* * *

**Disclaimer: Neither of us owns Les Miserables or the Barricade Boys. Well, not yet... Rachel, get the van.**

_Rachel: Which one? The flowery one Jehan gave us?_

**SPAS: No, the mysterious black one we picked up from Montparnasse.**

_Rachel: Oh goody!_

 

* * *

 

Before Jehan was even through the door of the Musain, Eponine had his order (a sweet and creamy latte) half made. He gave her a surprised and grateful glance, picking up the warm beverage and dropping his heavy book bag with a resounding thud on the floor. Within minutes he was curled up in his favourite chair, reading a book and sipping his drink. Eponine smiled at the sight and set about preparing the next order.

She had the Amis to thank for her new job at the Musain, specifically Joly. When the group had come around to her place of work to keep her company one evening, the cleanliness and customer service of the place had practically traumatised poor Joly. He had refused to condone her working in such a place and had worked his surprisingly considerable charm on the owner of the Musain to give Eponine a job. She was now on better wages, better working conditions, more flexible hours and she got to see her friends (she still found it strange to call them that) every day.

From her spot behind the counter of the Musain, Eponine had a pretty clear view of anyone coming in the door. In fact she could see half way down the street. This was rather useful because she got a few minutes warning when the Amis were about to descend on mass on the café. It gave her a chance to assess their mood and start on their drinks.

She glanced up from wiping down the counter and spied Courfeyrac trudging down the street towards the Musain. She frowned. His posture was slumped, his hands tucked into his pockets, his eyes on the floor. This was nothing like the normal Courfeyrac. The normal Courfeyrac would be bouncing down the street, skipping if he was with Jehan (“What, it’s the fastest way to get around!”) and doing a Singing in the Rain impression just for her on the lamppost outside the café.

The cheerful tinkle of the bell was completely at odds with the dejected looking figure that caused its movement. When he reached the counter, he laid his arms on the wooden surface and buried his head in them, all without saying a word.

Eponine was getting legitimately worried now. “Courf, baby, are you okay?”

He shrugged his shoulders and mumbled something unintelligible.

“Courf, you’re scaring me.” She ran her fingers through his still gingery curls, noticing the absence of something. “Where’s your beanie?”

“It blew away.” The answer was muffled.

“Is that why you’re upset? Because you had to be out in public with your hair on show?” Eponine felt like laughing now. “You know I’ve apologized for that and anyway, I didn’t know you would have to wait six weeks before you could dye your hair back to your natural colour.”

“It’s not the hat, and it’s not the hair.” His big green eyes rose to meet her. “I just discovered that the one thing I could always believe in is a lie. It is an illusion, a trick that I have played on myself for years.”

Eponine gave the most intelligent answer she was capable of at that moment. “What?”

Courfeyrac took a deep, shuddering breath. “My charm failed me.”

Eponine heard Jehan’s intake of breath.

Courfeyrac nodded solemnly. His head dropped back to the counter with a painful sounding thud. “It was humiliating.”

“I am agog!” Grantaire’s voice rang out from his place in the corner, where he had heard the whole story. “I am aghast! Did someone turn down Courfeyrac? At last?”

“Oh, you don’t understand!” Courfeyrac groaned, finally moving to a chair where he lounged dramatically. “I genuinely like this girl. Oh, don’t act like that!” this last comment was directed at Grantaire who was clutching at his chest in fake shock.

“So what happened? What went wrong?” Jehan scooted his chair closer, his eyes alight with eagerness.

“Okay, so I wasn’t really concentrating in my lecture, I mean I already know all of the dates and info backwards, I mean, we’re studying the June Student Rebellion of 1832 and that’s like Enjolras favourite period of history, but I digress. As I said, I wasn’t really concentrating, but the girl beside me was, did I mention she looks _really hot_ when she’s really concentrating. Rather a lot like Enjolras, but anyway. So, she’s really into it, and I start trying to read her notes, so I lean over a little bit…and then a little bit more and then…”

“Oh, no.” Grantaire groaned. “You didn’t do ‘the move’, did you? Right there in class?”

Eponine held a hand up. “Whoa, back up because I’m a little lost here. What is ‘the move’?”

Grantaire shook his head gravely and moved to sit next to Jehan. “The flirting term we are discussing here, ‘the move’, goes something like this. You begin with a simple stretch.” He stretched his arms above his head as if he was simply relaxing his muscles. “As the arms come down, one goes behind the shoulders of the recipient.” One paint spattered arm curled itself around Jehan’s shoulder. “To maximise the stretch, you lean across to extend the muscle.” His arm reached farther around and his hand made its way to the top of Jehan’s arm. Jehan was looking slightly uncomfortable. “Head comes across for extra reach.” His head lay down onto Jehan’s shoulder, nuzzling into his neck.

“I’m not even going to ask.” Enjolras closed the door behind him.

Grantaire disentangled himself from the poet with fluid ease. “Just demonstrating ‘the move’ to Eponine.”

“With Jehan?” Enjolras raised an eyebrow.

Grantaire frowned. “When you say it like that it really doesn’t sound very good does it?”

“R?” Jehan poked the older man in the ribs. “Can you get off me now?”

 “Of course little Jehan.” Grantaire gave one last squeeze before returning to his seat.

Eponine interrupted this touching display of tactile friendship with a rather unladylike snort. “You tried to snuggle with some random girl you’ve never talked to before, in the middle of class? Remind why you haven’t been reported for harassment?”

“He has.” Enjolras commented dryly.

Courfeyrac was defensive. “It was once and it was a total misunderstanding. Sorry, back to my story. I didn’t actually pull ‘the move’ because she looked up and gave a look that would match Enjolras’ any day so I rather wisely decided to wait until after class. The end of the lecture came and I caught her as we went to leave and asked if she maybe wanted to study together sometime and that I knew this great little café just off campus. That café is here in case you hadn’t guessed.”

“So what did she say?” Jehan rested his chin on one fist. “I mean, she obviously said no or you wouldn’t be brooding, but what did she _say_?”

“She just… _looked at me_. Pityingly. As if I was some little boy trying it on with a girl way out of his league.”

Eponine rolled her eyes. “You are stunningly pathetic sometimes, Courf.”

“Hey,” he whined, “don’t be mean to me. I’ve been emotionally bruised today and I think that deserves a hot chocolate.”

Eponine completed another eye roll.

“Yes, with the little marshmallows and everything.” Courfeyrac clambered into Jehan’s chair (that still had Jehan in it) and curled himself around the poet. This was something that Eponine had learned very quickly. Courfeyrac was a very touchy feely type of guy, not in a creepy way, just really physically affectionate. It had taken her a little while to get used to it, especially if he sneaked up on her and gave her a hug because, for far too much of her life, physical contact for her was often unpleasant, usually resulting in bruises.

Now however, she smiled fondly as Courfeyrac proceeded to whine and wheedle at Jehan until he was given a small stack of cookies from the box that Jehan had baked and brought with him to the meeting. She looked over to Enjolras and was surprised to see the same emotion mirrored on his face. He glanced over and flushed slightly as he realized he had been caught in a sentimental moment, a small bashful smile gradually gracing his features. Eponine felt herself smile back but the smile dropped as she heard the click of a camera shutter.

“You had better delete that, ‘Taire!” She threatened, making to head out from behind the counter. “I’ve been on my feet all day and look disgusting. Delete it!” She stood before him, hands on her hips, a fierce frown on her face. Enjolras echoed her protests, but Grantaire waved them down.

“No, it is photographic evidence that you and Enjolras can actually genuinely smile at each other.” He had a strange look on his face and Eponine had a feeling he wasn’t mentioning something, but she let it drop. She had caught sight of the rest of the Amis charging the street and needed to start on their orders. She spared Enjolras one last glance but his attention was once again on his laptop. She sighed and started on Joly’s soy macchiato.

 

* * *

 

After his minor breakdown at the café, Courfeyrac seemed to bounce back to his normal self. He dyed his hair back to its natural colour of dark brown and returned to flirting with any pretty girl that crossed his path.

Eponine had all but forgotten about the incident until one particular day at the café…

She had just finished her shift and was relaxing with the group when something very strange happened.

The bell rang above the door, indicating a new customer had entered the café. Eponine glanced up out of instinct and saw a young woman of about her age standing in front of the counter. She thought nothing of it until she turned back around and found that Courfeyrac had disappeared.

“Erm, guys? Has anyone seen Courfeyrac?”

Everyone glanced around, confused as to his whereabouts until they heard rapid breathing from underneath the table.

Eponine ducked her head underneath the table to find a wide eyed Courfeyrac curled up on the floor, peering through the gap between her chair and Bahorel’s, who was sat next to her.

“It’s her.” He whispered by way of explanation. “It’s the girl who turned me down.”

“So, why are you pulling a Pontmercy and hiding under the table?”

He pouted. “Low blow Thenardier, low blow.”

Feuilly’s head appeared under the table next. “Why is Courf pulling a Pontmercy?”

They faintly heard Marius protesting at this implied slight as to his character, but they all ignored him.

“The girl who turned Courf down a couple of weeks ago and seriously dented his self-belief in his charming abilities is stood at the counter.” Eponine explained, sliding off her chair completely and onto the floor. “So he’s hiding.”

Jehan appeared next, sitting cross legged next to his best friend. “Why are we all under the table?”

Eponine couldn’t help but giggle at the picture Jehan made, his long arms and legs tangled together to fit under the wooden table.

Feuilly answered the question. “Courfeyrac’s female arch nemesis is at the counter.”

Courfeyrac raised an eyebrow. “Seriously? Arch nemesis is a bit over the top don’t you think?”

“Hey, guys.” Grantaire slithered under the table, “Aw, you’re having a party and you didn’t invite me? That hurts guys, truly. So why are we hiding?”

“We’re hiding with Courfeyrac because the girl that broke his heart and destroyed his self-worth with her evil world domination plans is at the counter.”

Eponine sighed. “Feuilly, please slap Jehan.”

“OW!”

“Over and done with.”

“To answer your question R, we’re hiding because Courfeyrac isn’t man enough to go and talk to his crush.” Eponine pulled a childish face in response to Courfeyrac’s glare.

“Ooohhh.” Grantaire hummed, earning himself a kick from Enjolras when he tickled his ankles. “So what’s the problem? Man up and talk to her.”

Bahorel peeked under the table. “I’m not going to join you in your little ‘under the table’ club, but I agree with R. Get out from under the table and talk to her before I drag you out by the roots of your fake dyed hair.”

Knowing Bahorel wasn’t joking, Courfeyrac complied, grumbling somewhat. He straightened his shirt, ruffled his hair for good measure and set off towards the girl’s table.

Grantaire appeared from the waist up from under the table and rested his chin on the edge. “Five bucks says he gets bitch slapped and/or has a drink thrown on him.”

Eponine popped up next to him. “You’re on.”

 

* * *

 

Five minutes later Eponine could see that she was losing the bet and Courfeyrac was minutes away from being doused in mango smoothie.

Grantaire smirked around the neck of his bottle. “Want to hand that money over now, Thenardier?”

“Kiss my ass, _Nicholas_.” She snarked.

Jehan smiled. “Hey, that nearly rhymed!”

Eponine heard Courfeyrac burst into hysterical laughter and cringed. If she was going to win the bet, she needed to do something drastic. It seemed desperate times called for desperate measures. Getting to her feet and ignoring Grantaire’s protests that interventions were not allowed, she headed towards the other table, adopting the walk of someone who was slightly uncertain. Being the daughter of a conman and taking part in scams had honed her acting skills somewhat it seemed.

She sidled closer and tentatively tapped Courfeyrac on the shoulder. He turned, a slightly confused look on his face. Before he could speak and blow her cover, she let surprise wash over her features.

“Oh my god, it is you!” Her smile was brilliant, egged on somewhat by the look of utter confusion on Courfeyrac’s face.

“It’s me…?” He trailed off, giving her a look that clearly said _WHAT THE HELL?_

“You saved my puppy from out of the river a few weeks ago!” she pulled over a chair from another table. “I never really got a chance to thank you for saving my little…” her mind grasped for a name. “Jehan! Jehan, my little dog.”

Out of the corner of her eye she saw the other girl’s eyes widen in surprise. She gave Courfeyrac a look to say he should play along, which he did, with great aplomb.

“Oh, it was nothing. Really.” He looked down, blushing slightly (how did he do that?) and sounding uncomfortable from the attention. “But I just couldn’t walk past you know? He just looked so helpless and scared and,” he gave a bashful smile, “I’m a sucker for cute dogs.”

Eponine reached over and gave him an awkward hug. “I just wanted to be able to thank you.” She stood and gave the girl a radiant smile. “You’re very lucky to have a boyfriend like this.”

The girl turned a startling shade of red. “Oh, he’s not my boyfriend.” She stuttered. “I barely even know him.”

“Oh, I’m sorry!” Eponine squeaked, giving an uncomfortable smile. “I’ll leave you two in peace now then.” She sauntered back to the table that the Amis were sitting at and sat down triumphantly. Enjolras gave her an appraising look and the rest of the table either smiled or applauded.

“That’s not fair!” grumbled Grantaire.

Eponine shrugged. “What you going to do about it?”

 

* * *

 

After that, the conversation between Courfeyrac and his lady friend seemed to go much better. She seemed more engaged with him and less likely to slap him and he seemed more at ease as well.

Ten minutes later (in which Eponine and Grantaire never stopped bickering, even when Enjolras growled at them to shut up, and Bahorel and Feuilly joined in the bet) Courfeyrac and the girl rose, and after a brief and slightly awkward hug she left, waving to him one last time as she passed the window.

“Well? How’d it go?” Eponine asked as soon as Courfeyrac was sat back at their table, a slightly shell shocked expression on his face. “Oh, and boys? Pay up, he lived.”

All three of the boys groaned and handed the money over to Eponine.

“I still say you cheated by intervening.” Grantaire protested, holding the money just out of her reach.

Eponine snatched for it, seeing her shopping bill for the week disappearing if the other boys agreed with him, but help came from an unexpected source.

“Shut up and pay up, Grantaire. You never specified that she couldn’t intervene.” Enjolras didn’t even look up from his book to argue with the artist.

Stowing the money away in her purse, Eponine asked her question again. “How did it go? Did you get a date? An offer to speak again? Threats of death?”

“I’m dead.”

His answer confused everyone.

Combeferre shifted slightly. “Is there any chance we’ll be dealing with another harassment case?”

Courfeyrac shook his head. “No, the opposite. I seem to have talked my way into being her early morning swim partner before class.”

Jehan’s forehead furrowed. “But you don’t swim? I think the last time you were in a swimming pool you were fully clothed, drunk and thought the whole situation was hilarious.”

“Exactly! But after Eponine came over and set me up as a hero for diving into a river to save her dog, great on the spot choice of name by the way, Laura then asked if I swam for fun and then where I swam and then one thing led to another and…”

“It’s your fault for lying.” Enjolras said bluntly. “You’re just going to have to start swimming.” He peeked over the top of his book. “Not that it will do you any harm.”

“Hey!” Courfeyrac yelped. “I am in perfectly adequate health thank you!”

“Swimming really is a very good form of exercise.” Joly chipped in. “The natural buoyancy of the water means that there is less stress on your cartilage and bones.” He frowned. “However, the water can be full of germs, the top two or so inches especially, and the changing rooms can be the perfect breeding ground for foot infections such as verrucae and fungal infections and, okay, maybe it’s not such a good idea for you go swimming after all…”

Bossuet good naturedly clapped a hand over his best friend’s mouth. “Ignore him. If it’s something you can have in common with her, go for it.”    

Courfeyrac pulled a face. “The things I do for love…”

 

* * *

 

A fortnight later he was significantly happier. He came bouncing into the Musain, a bright smile on his face and the distinct smell of chlorine clinging to his hair, mingled with the spicy scent of his shampoo.

“Hey!” he sing-songed, flopping into a chair.

“Hey.” Eponine replied brightly. She gave him a quick once over. “Swimming seems to be doing you a hell of a lot of good.”

“Thank you.” He pulled a noble pose for which he got slapped lightly.

“Looking good, Courf!” Grantaire ruffled his friend’s wild brown curls before settling himself in his usual chair. “Hey, Ponine, check these out.” He threw a folder onto the table.

Gingerly, she opened the folder, not quite sure what it would contain. When she saw what it was, she gasped in surprise.

“I handed it in as one of my assignments. “ Grantaire smirked. “My tutor went nuts over it.”

“I can see why.” Courfeyrac agreed, peering over her shoulder to see it better.

Eponine gazed at the glossy photograph in amazement. It was the picture that Grantaire had taken a few weeks before that he had refused to delete. She was situated on the left, her hair pulling loose of its topknot, a few strands curling loosely around her face. Her lips were curled in a gentle smile, a sparkle of humour and happiness showing in her dark eyes.

Her eyes moved to the other side of the picture, the side holding Enjolras. His hair was in its usual rumpled state, golden curls arranged in a messy halo around his head. His lips were quirked up into a slightly guilty looking grin that made him look a little younger and more carefree than usual. His sharp blue eyes had a gentleness to them that Eponine hadn’t seen before, even on that night, the emotion gone before she had recognized it.

The picture was stunning and beautiful and had a feeling of intimacy that made Eponine feel equal parts uncomfortable and intrigued. She didn’t realize how else it had affected her until a tear dropped onto the paper.

“How much did you have to Photoshop it to get me looking like that?” she joked, trying to draw attention away from her tears, and pushed the picture back towards its creator.

Grantaire looked at her seriously. “I didn’t do anything to you or Enjolras, I just played with the background a little.” He pushed the photo back into her hands. “That’s all you.”

“I look happy.” Eponine didn’t realize she had said the words aloud until Courfeyrac gave her a gentle hug. “I can’t remember being happy before I met you guys.”

Grantaire frowned. They knew very little about Eponine’s past and she wanted it to stay that way, so he knew better than to ask questions. “I called it ‘Apollo and Athena’” he said quietly.

The bell over the door rang and Enjolras and the rest of the group entered. Grantaire gave her a look and reached for the photo, thinking maybe she didn’t want the picture that had affected her so deeply to be shown to everyone else.

She shook her head with a smile. “It’s your work, it deserves to be shown off.” She gave it a last look. “Such an unexpected moment deserves to be shared.”  

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope you enjoyed! By the way, 'the move' section that I described was inspired by Steve Martin in Cheaper by the Dozen 2, a hilarious film. Just so you know. If you want to see anymore of my stuff, I'm mostly over on FanFiction.net with the same pen name as here.


	4. Jehan

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jehan and Eponine have a little bonding time and mutual secrets are revealed...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N Hello everyone, sorry for the wait, I got a little preoccupied with my other fic and then I was ill and then I had a nasty case of writer's block, so yeah. Just to warn you guys, this is pretty sad and has mentions of child abuse so take note.

Disclaimer: It turns out I'm not Victor Hugo. Go figure.

* * *

The rain beat a steady rhythm against the kitchen window of Eponine's apartment. The clock ticked steadily, its clinical clicks at odds with the musical patter of the rain. Eponine sat curled up in the armchair, picking at a loose thread of the stained upholstery, occasionally flicking a glance up to the plain white clock in the kitchen. Jehan had promised he would teach her to bake today; he had even called that morning to confirm it. Now he was half an hour late and he wasn't answering his phone. After a few minutes she rose and went to the kitchen to ensure that everything they would need was ready. Jehan had insisted on bringing his own weights and all of the ingredients, guessing rightly that she wouldn't have them.

Determining that everything necessary was there, returned to her seat, sighing and tapping her fingers on the armrest impatiently. She couldn't help but feel worried, even though there was probably a perfectly reasonable explanation. Her lips quirked in a smile because, actually, knowing Jehan, the explanation probably wasn't seen as reasonable to anyone but him. Her smile grew as she remembered when Jehan had explained that the reason he was late for the meeting was because he had got preoccupied counting the number of hanging baskets between his apartment and the Musain. Enjolras' look of befuddled disbelief appeared in her minds' eye and she giggled. Unfortunately, her thoughts then took a distinctively Enjolras-centric turn, his face, his voice, everything about him, clamouring in her head and she was surprised at the strange longing ache that flared up in her chest, a feeling she hadn't felt for a very long time and one she wasn't all together comfortable with.

The buzz of her intercom startled Eponine out of her thoughts and she hurried to the receiver. "Hello?"

_"Hey Ponine, it's Jehan."_ His voice sounded shaky and not just from because of the bad quality of aged intercom. _"Can you let me up?"_

"Of course, darling." She pressed the button to let him in, "Are you alright?"

_"I'm just a bit damp. See you in a minute!"_ True to his word a knock sounded on the door only about a minute later.

Sliding back the bolt and twisting the lock, Eponine then opened the door. A gasp tore itself from her throat, "Sweet mother of…! You class this as 'a bit damp'?"

Jehan grinned sheepishly and shifted from foot to foot, a squelching noise emanating from his drenched Doc Martins as he did so. His sky blue skinny jeans were darkened to almost indigo from the water and his long sleeved, neon orange jumper clung to his slight frame. He stepped inside; putting down the bags he was carrying and pushed a sodden strand of hair out of his eyes. "I forgot an umbrella…and then I got distracted walking through the park because there were ducks and they looked so happy I started to write about them in my head…and then…yeah." He looked down at himself, noticing the small puddle that was slowly forming on Eponine's grey carpet. "You wouldn't happen to have a towel would you?"

Eponine huffed and rolled her eyes, her annoyance undermined by the gentle smile on her lips. "They're in the cupboard in the bathroom." As he began to move in the direction she pointed, she added with a smirk. "I'd suggest you have a shower but since my apartment block is about a hundred years old and is falling to pieces, the hot water isn't exactly reliable and I used it up this morning."

Jehan gave an understanding smile as his hot water wasn't exactly reliable either. He made to continue to the bathroom, but stopped again, a flush colouring his face. "What am I going to do about my clothes?"

Eponine thought for a moment. "Well, you can't exactly hang around in those wet ones, you'll get ill and Joly will have my head for letting you catch cold." She smirked, "The only other option is you don't wear any and I don't think we're quite good enough friends yet for that." His blush deepened so Eponine showed mercy. "I think I've got some clothes that might fit you. Now go and dry off!"

After moving the bags that held the baking supplies to the kitchen, Eponine proceeded to go to her room and rummage through her (not very large) supply of clothing, eventually digging out a pair of sweatpants and a T-shirt with the words 'This is not the life I ordered' printed on it. She grimaced at the melancholy of the words but it was the only thing big enough to fit Jehan. In two steps she was at the bathroom door (because her apartment really wasn't that big) and after knocking once, she opened the door. "I know these are a little boring, but they were all I…" she trailed off as she processed the sight before her.

A spider web of scars crisscrossed the poet's back, some of them ridged and lumpy, the red of the marks standing out clearly on the pale skin. "Oh, Jehan." She breathed stepping further into the room despite the horrified look frozen on Jehan's face. She knew exactly how scars like that were caused and the thought that anyone would willingly want to harm the gentle hearted soul standing in front of her filled her with rage and a deep, deep sadness.

"Please don't say anything," Jehan whispered, the towel clutched in a death grip in his hands. He looked terrified and broken all at once as he repeated himself, almost pleadingly, "Please."

Eponine took a step forwards but, almost involuntarily, Jehan flinched back. Realizing that neither embraces nor words would be of use, Eponine dropped the clothes and unzipped her hoody. As it hit the floor Eponine grasped the hem of her shirt and started to pull upwards.

Jehan stared on, aghast, his face a bright shade of red, "L...look, 'Ponine, what…whatever you're trying to…to do, really it…it's not necessary…"

Her shirt joined her hoody on the floor as she looked him straight in the eye, "Sometimes there are no words." She turned her back towards him, baring her deepest secret open. She peeked over her shoulder, taking in his saddened and shocked expression. "Snap."

A split second later he pulled her into a hug. There was nothing remotely sexual about the move, just a deep empathy and an understanding that could not be vocalized.

* * *

They didn't bake anything in the end, instead just curling up on the sofa and telling each other the stories behind their scars. It turns out that Jehan's is somewhat like Eponine's; his father was an abusive drunk who more often than not took out his frustrations on his son.

"My mother left when I was young, I think I was only about eleven, and my dad took it badly." His voice was soft and he focused on tying Eponine's long brown hair into several complicated braids. "I tried to help to fill the gap, as best as an eleven year old can; I baked, I cleaned, I did the laundry, tried to keep things moving. I didn't get a lot of help from my dad; to begin with he was usually too drunk to even notice I was there." His hands stilled. "It was only when he cut back on the drinking that he began to take things out on me." He gave a smile but there wasn't a hint of happiness in it. "He said I reminded him too much of Clemence, my mother, said it was my fault that she had left, that I hadn't been a good enough son." A quaver appeared in his voice and Eponine reached back, squeezing his hand gently. "The words almost hurt more than his belt."

The silence fell between them, heavy yet not uncomfortable. Eponine eventually broke it as she began to recount her own story. "My life wasn't all that bad to begin with. We owned a little inn out in the countryside and my family was pretty well off, and my parents actually okay." She gave a wistful smile. "We used to go to the movies, go on holiday, buy all the latest gadgets. Unfortunately, we spent too much, my old man never did have a head for numbers, we got into debt, lost the inn, lost everything really. Things changed after that." she took a deep breath, knowing this was where it could go wrong. "My father fell into the underworld scene, you know, robbing, scamming, extortion…and I helped him." Jehan said nothing so she continued. "I helped with robbery, I tricked people, I stood guard while my dad's gang mugged people. In short, I wasn't exactly shiny and honourable."

"If you helped, then why the beatings?" She felt his fingers skim over her back, finding the location of the marks even through her clothes.

She shrugged, "If something went wrong, or if he got drunk, or he was just in a bad mood, me and my siblings would be on the receiving end. I ended up with the most because I drew him away from the others, took the hits that were meant for them."

"Your siblings were blessed to have a sister like you." He gave her an affectionate squeeze about the middle to back up his words, but was somewhat surprised by the dry bark of laughter that Eponine let out.

"Yeah, I'm sure they felt really blessed when I got them shoved into the foster system when I was sixteen. I bet they adore me for the fact that I shopped our parents to the police and tore the family apart, because, yes, while it wasn't much of a family, it was still a family."

"Foster care is better than just leaving them to deal with it on their own." There is a hint of bitterness in his tone that Eponine couldn't fathom, instead choosing to focus on his next words. "Where are they now?"

Eponine shrugged, "Gavroche got shipped around a lot, he can be a very difficult kid to handle, but I see him more often now than I did as he lives pretty close to me. Alzema, my sister, well…I haven't seen her since they first went into care. I'm pretty sure she hates me but at least I know she's better off than she was."

"I ended up living with Courf, you know," Jehan said after a few more minutes of silence as each sat and pondered. "His parents found out when I was fifteen what was going on and told the police." He gave another smile, a happy one this time. "They became my legal guardians in the end so me and Courf ended up as basically brothers."

"I bet they only agreed to keep you because of your baking," Eponine teased, feeling the need to bring the conversation into a lighter mood.

Jehan grinned, "Probably. It definitely wasn't me practising the flute at two in the morning!"

"You play the flute?"

He waved a hand airily, "I do many things. Now, do you want to learn how to make the best muffins in the world or not?"

"Lead on and I shall follow," Eponine grinned as she threw a mock salute.

The rest of the afternoon was filled with laughter, flour, and the heavenly scent of baking as unexpected secrets were banished by the kindness of friendship and the heavenly taste of muffins.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N I'm really sorry for hurting Jehan, but this is my headcanon of him coming to life. Also, I know the ending was a little tacky, I might come back through and edit this sometime, but I didn't want to leave you guys waiting.
> 
> Please comment, I like comments, and comments will stop Jehan feeling sad. ;)

**Author's Note:**

> I'm pretty new here so if I've done something wrong, please point it out nicely rather than getting at me. Most of my work is over on FanFiction.net under this same pen name if you want to go and check it out!


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